


do it anyway

by Twice_before_Friday



Series: Altered & Extended - season 1 [15]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Blood, Blood Loss, Canon-typical unrealistic healing time, Episode: s01e15 Death's Door, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hospitals, Hostage Situations, Major Character Injury, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27999552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twice_before_Friday/pseuds/Twice_before_Friday
Summary: His profile shifts and evolves as she speaks, winnowing down the subsets of necrophiliacs and helping him to understand her better. He's hoping that with understanding comes an ability to connect. He may not be able to talk her into leaving Kevin behind, but he might just manage to convince her to drop the gun.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell
Series: Altered & Extended - season 1 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557952
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59





	do it anyway

**Author's Note:**

> All works in this series are stand alone. You don't need to have read the others to read this one.

_Tell me, honestly, is this really how you want him?_

_You have no idea what I want._

\---

Her anger and desperation are nearly tangible in the small space and, though he tries not to draw Leanne's attention to Edrisa by looking her way, he's painfully aware of the way Edrisa flinches back as Leanne jerks the gun at him, tightening her grip.

It's likely Malcolm understands Leanne's motivations more than she gives him credit for. He may not know where _exactly_ she fits on Aggrawal's classification for types of necrophile, but he does understand that, as far as Leanne is concerned, her entire world is lying in the drawer beside him. 

He also knows that Dani and the rest of the team are on their way and he needs to stall for time. Not only does he need to keep Leanne from absconding with the body, but he also needs to ensure she doesn't hurt Edrisa in the process.

"I know how appealing it would be to live in the past," he says quickly, ensuring Leanne's attention remains firmly fixed on him. 

And God, does Malcolm ever understand wanting to live in the past. To go back before his entire life was torn apart. Back to a time of carefree innocence when every day was an adventure and the world was a beautiful unknown, filled with hope and excitement. A time when his father was still the hero of his story, not the villain in disguise.

He knows, though, better than anyone, that living in the past does nothing but destroy the future.

He wishes he could make Leanne understand that now, but he suspects that there's no way to dissuade her, focused as she is on everything she lost. Which means his only hope is to get her talking and keep her talking until the team arrives.

"You'd go back to before the fire, right?" he asks. It's a fine line to walk, keeping Leanne engaged without triggering any memories that might push her to do something rash.

"A year ago? You think that's when life got hard for me?" Leanne scoffs and Malcolm zeros in on the almost imperceptible stress indicators that flash across her face. "I was six when I found my mom dead in her bed. I crawled right under the covers with her. Nobody found us for twelve hours. Do you know how cold skin can feel after twelve hours?"

His profile shifts and evolves as she speaks, winnowing down the subsets of necrophiliacs and helping him to understand her better. He's hoping that with understanding comes an ability to connect. He may not be able to talk her into leaving Kevin behind, but he might just manage to convince her to drop the gun.

"That's why you embalm people. You give them back warmth. A life where they can't leave you," he says slowly. He told the team earlier, at the crime scene, that the crime was born of a very human need for connection, and he understands now just how deeply that need runs in Leanne. "I get it. I do. Real relationships can be hard as hell, life is full of risk, and death is messy. But we can't run away from it."

The truth of the words is like a slap in the face. He's been running since the moment he stabbed his father with the ice pick, unable to face what he did. Unable to accept the fact that he may be responsible for his father's death.

He still hasn't set foot in Martin's hospital room.

"I can't run away from it," he says quietly, realizing that it's time to face the music. "We need to face it. Maybe...maybe we can both face it together. What do you say, Leanne?"

He reaches out slowly, offering her a way out. A way to move on.

The pain is still etched on her face, a well of sadness so deep that he knows he could never fully comprehend what she's feeling. But she seems willing to accept the offer. Her grip on the gun loosens, her arm dropping lower, just a little, an unconscious movement that speaks of her yearning to move on.

But then the muscles around her eyes and lips become suddenly tight, her grip on the pistol firming as she takes aim at his heart.

And in the blink of an eye, his future goes up in smoke. His plans — to visit his father, to apologize to Edrisa, to finally open up to Dani — fall to ash before his eyes, as Leanne's intent to pull the trigger becomes painfully obvious. 

His body doesn't react as quickly as his mind, though, and by the time his feet are ready to move, to launch him out of the way, her finger is already squeezing the trigger.

He's so focused on Leanne, on the gun, that he doesn't see Edrisa shift to grab the autopsy tray, isn't aware that she's moved at all until the sturdy metal sheet is slamming down hard onto Leanne's arm. 

The force of the blow is enough to throw off Leanne's aim, so when the bullet discharges, traveling at nearly a thousand feet per second, the shot that was intended for his heart lands blessedly lower, piercing his abdomen instead.

He doesn't feel the small bit of metal rip through his body. Not at first, anyways. The impact sends him stumbling back into the wall of metal doors behind him, and he's sliding down to the floor before the pain even registers.

And when it does…

It's excruciating.

His hands fly to his abdomen, cold becoming warm as blood pours from the small wound, seeping through his shirt, through his fingers, almost immediately.

Everything happens in a blur after that.

Dani and JT burst through the door, guns drawn, pausing for less than a second to survey the scene before they're a whirlwind of activity.

JT rushes to subdue their suspect, pushing her against the wall as he cuffs her hands behind her back, all while keeping a wary eye on Malcolm as Dani runs to his side and drops to a crouch next to him.

Edrisa stands frozen in the middle of the room, metal tray still locked in a crushing grip in her hands, her eyes wide and watering as she watches the pool of blood beneath Malcolm grow steadily larger.

"Dammit Bright, I told you to wait," Dani mutters as her hands land on top of Malcolm's, pushing harder than he can manage on his own as his energy fades away and his grip on the wound starts to falter.

Malcolm hollers as a fresh wave of pain explodes in his abdomen, his vision sparking a blinding white before it before it begins to fade, a muted grey smudging around the edges.

"No, no, no," Dani says, letting go with one hand long enough to tap him on the side of the face, hard enough to clear away the splotches of darkness that are trying to consume him. "Don't even think about it, Bright."

"Shit, Dani, s-stop," Malcolm pants, trying to pull his hands free in an effort to push her away. He's never experienced pain like this before and he'd do just about anything to make it stop. "Hurts."

"I know. I'm sorry," Dani says, her eyebrows pulling in as her gaze darts between his eyes and the blood that's still seeping from his wound. "But we have to slow the bleeding."

He knows she's right. He can look at the rapidly-expanding crimson smear that's spreading and curling around Dani's boots, and understand that the bleeding needs to stemmed. 

But his mind can't quite seem to reconcile the fact that the pain Dani is causing him is all that's keeping what's left of his blood on the inside.

"Edrisa," Dani calls out, clearly trying to remain calm, but Malcolm can still pick up on the hint of panic in her voice. He wants to tell her that it's going to be okay but the words seem to lose momentum before they've even landed on his tongue.

Edrisa doesn't move, frozen in place, frozen with shock.

"Edrisa, I need some gauze or something. He's bleeding too much." Dani looks over her shoulder at the rooted medical examiner, waiting until she meets her eye before saying, "Bright needs our help."

It still takes a moment. Edrisa stands there, nodding vacantly for several seconds until her mind catches up. When it does, she drops the tray to the floor with a resounding clatter and practically runs from the room back into the autopsy suite.

Once she's gone, Dani turns back to Malcolm. Even with everything they've been through — snake bites and exploding drugs and landmines — he's never seen her look quite this worried.

It makes him wonder just how bad things really are.

The one saving grace is that the pain isn't quite as severe as it was before, and he can feel his body start to relax and release some of the tension he's holding. He's getting cold, though. And tired. And it's getting hard to focus on much of anything at all.

"Bright, open your eyes," Dani calls out, the note of panic in her voice hitting like a gut punch.

He didn't realize they were closed.

He pries his eyelids open, fighting against how heavy they've suddenly become.

"That's good," she says, attempting a reassuring smile and failing miserably. "Good. Just keep looking at me, okay?"

He does his best. Truly he does. But his eyelids keep fluttering closed, no matter how hard he tries to keep them open. He does, however, open them back up when the pain in his abdomen suddenly and unexpectedly magnifies tenfold. A scream tears from his throat and he jerks forward, away from the cold metal behind him, trying to run, to get away from the pain that feels like a white-hot poker that's been run straight through his body.

"Oh my god," Edrisa cries as her hands land on his shoulders to push him back while Dani continues to pack gauze over his wound and apply pressure. 

It worries him that he doesn't know when Edrisa got back, but he can't focus on that over the pain that's ripping through him.

"Bright, you need to stay still." The tremor in Edrisa's voice is what finally gets Malcolm to settle back against the wall of metal drawers. He hates to hear her like that, worried for him, especially when he knows how badly he hurt her feelings with his ill-thought comment earlier.

He tries to reach out, but his hand just flops on the ground, landing nowhere near her.

"Bright, I'm so sorry," she cries when he finally manages to look her in the eye. He can tell she's on the verge of tears. "You just said life was about taking risks and I thought you were talking to me. You...weren't talking to me, were you? I thought I was helping. I'm so, so sorry."

He doesn't have the energy to speak, but he does reach out to her again and this time she takes hold of his bloodsoaked hand as it flops on the floor by her knee. He manages one faint squeeze — a thank you, an apology, and hopefully _not_ a goodbye — before the world begins to fade into an indistinct nothingness. He hopes she understands, if nothing else, that none of this is her fault.

Despite the pain and exhaustion, he somehow manages to pull himself back for short stretches at a time after that, just enough to catch bits and pieces of what's happening around him before the darkness tugs him under again. 

Like when the paramedics move him onto a stretcher and he nearly vomits at the ache that blossoms inside as he's laid flat and the gaping wound is stretched out, flesh and muscles pulling so painfully it's like being shot all over again.

Or seeing Gil and JT waiting outside as the paramedics rush him from the building, surrounding the stretcher while it's being loaded into the ambulance, matching expressions of distress on their faces as they look down at him and notice the sheer amount of blood that's soaked through his clothes.

Dani in the ambulance with him. Holding his hand as he's poked and prodded and attached to various machines to keep him alive; recording his heart rate and blood pressure as both numbers spike and plummet, pumping him full of fluids to replace the blood he lost in the morgue, forcing precious oxygen into his lungs.

And then lights flashing in narrow strips overhead as he's wheeled through the hospital. They blur into one another as he moves, becoming an indistinct band that washes over him as everything else falls away. 

All that's left in the end is an unusual sensation of peace that wends through his veins and leaves him feeling weightless and unmoored and a little bit like he might just float away into the ether, never to return.

And then there's an eternity of nothingness.

The world seems far more concrete when he wakes up next, watercolours replaced by dense oils, heavy and saturated, painful to look at as he opens his eyes.

"Hey there, city boy," Gil's voice coasts to him from next to the window, but when he turns his head to follow the sound, the light is too much and he flinches away.

Gil walks over to the other side of his bed, ensuring Malcolm doesn't have to face the harsh beams of sun as they reflect off the windows across the street.

"You gave us a bit of a scare." The bags under Gil's eyes speak to the truth of that statement. But they've done this song and dance enough that Malcolm doesn't even need to ask before Gil is filling him in on everything he needs to know. "Leanne's in custody and charges are being filed. Edrisa's fine, so are Dani and JT."

Gil pauses to give Malcolm a moment to let that sink in, knowing that those would've been his first questions, the concerns that would've been weighing on him. 

"The bullet perforated your spleen and they needed to perform an emergency splenectomy. You lost a lot of blood, kid. It was touch and go there for a while, but the doc says you're gonna be fine," Gil gives his forearm a light squeeze, avoiding the tubes that are taped to his hand. "For once I'm glad you inherited Jessica's stubborn streak."

Malcolm can tell the smile is genuine, but so is the lingering fear behind Gil's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Malcolm croaks.

Gil offers another gentle squeeze then moves to the bedside table, placing some ice chips from a small container into a plastic cup.

When Malcolm reaches out for it, though, the movements are clumsy and slow from the painkillers and anesthesia that's still pumping through his blood. Fortunately, Gil has experience with this from previous hospital visits, too, and helps Malcolm get a small ice chip in his mouth, then sits on the side of the bed so he can continue to slide chips between Malcolm's lips as he needs them.

It's not long before Malcolm is drifting off, struggling to stay awake as he and Gil discuss the case.

"Alright, kid," Gil says quietly, pushing to his feet. "I need to get back to the precinct and you need to rest. I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

Malcolm is asleep before he even finishes saying goodnight.

The nurses wake him repeatedly as they check in on him, but Malcolm still sleeps through the night and into midday. When he wakes up this time, the anesthesia has worked its way out of his system and he feels surprisingly clear headed.

He's already plotting his escape when he looks up and sees Dani standing at the door.

"I will cuff you to that bed if I need to," she says, pursing her lips to tamp down on the smile that's pulling at the corners.

"Hmm. It'll be just like home," Malcolm says, lighting up as she walks into the room.

With an arched eyebrow and a small smirk, Dani lowers herself to the chair next to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

If he's honest with himself, he's in a fair amount of pain. The dosages of painkillers they supply aren't nearly enough to account for the resistance he's built over the years. But it's bearable. Mostly. Which means he's ready to go home.

"I'm fine," he says with a smile that he knows is a little too wide to be truly believable. He tones it down when he thinks of everything he almost lost. Everything he was given a second chance at. "I'll _be_ fine. And, um. I wanted to thank you."

"For what?" Dani asks suspiciously.

Malcolm bites down on the grin that tries to break free. One day, he thinks to himself, he's going to convince her that she can trust him. He's just going to work a hell of a lot harder to make himself worthy of that trust, first. 

"Everything you said today, turns out I was listening. Leanne brought it all out of me. Death. Letting go," Malcolm chuckles as he realizes how insane that must sound. "It was great."

Dani shakes her head but Malcolm would swear there's a fondness in the crinkle of her eyes as she narrows her gaze and points out, "Only you would find it therapeutic, talking to a killer."

"You're the one I like talking to," he says sincerely. He has every intention of proving that with actions and not just empty words. "And I promise I'm gonna do better."

Dani purses her lips in consideration but offers a small nod.

It's a start.

"So now what?" she asks, clearly ready to move forward and leave their past where it belongs.

"Now," Malcolm blows out a slow breath, "Now I ask for a favour."

"If it's busting you out of here, you're asking the wrong person," she teases, leaning back in the chair and looking perfectly at ease.

"Ah, no," Malcolm laughs and looks down to the thin blanket that’s covering him. "Back at the morgue, before everything went sideways, I realized I need to stop running. I need to go see my father."

Dani's eyebrows shoot up at the statement but she waits quietly for Malcolm to press on. He appreciates her giving him the time he needs to ask for what he's asking for.

"I don't want you in the room," he says quietly, and hurries to explain before she can take that the wrong way. "I don't want you anywhere near him, if I can help it. But—"

Malcolm twists the blanket between his fingers. He's not a child. He doesn't need a chaperone. But he could sure use a friend.

Dani, somehow, seems to understand. 

"I could wheel you down. Wait outside the room," she offers. He knows it doesn't come easy to put herself out there and he appreciates the offer more than she probably knows.

"That would be great," he says quietly, looking up with a gratitude he's unsure how to express.

It takes time to get him ready to go. They need to find a nurse and a wheelchair, and then slowly ease him out of bed, keeping the IV nearby and untangled. The nurse gives Dani some basic instructions and tells Malcolm that it's a good sign that he's already out of bed, but to take it slow and head back to his room as soon as he begins to feel the first signs of fatigue. 

Malcolm and Dani both chuckle under their breaths, knowing 'fatigued' is Malcolm's default setting, but they nod their understanding and soon enough, Dani is wheeling him through the halls, heading unerringly for his father's room.

When they stop outside the room, Malcolm is just able to make out his father's form through the window and immediately clenches his hand into a tight fist as the damn tremor chooses now makes itself known. 

"You sure about this?" Dani asks, leaving his wheelchair parked where it is and then walking to stand with her back to the window.

"Honestly?" he asks, but he already knows the answer to that question. "Not really."

"But you're gonna do it anyway," she guesses. 

"But I'm going to do it anyway," he confirms with a small smile.

There's an understanding in her gaze that assures him he doesn't need to explain why he's doing this. Even still, he'd like to tell her everything. Someday.

"Would you mind helping me up?"

"Uh. That's probably not a good idea," Dani frowns, her eyes traveling over Malcolm's pale and shaking form.

"Probably not," he agrees. He leaves the rest unsaid, but it seems to ring through the air regardless.

_But I'm going to do it anyway._

Dani shakes her head but helps Malcolm to his feet and gets the IV set up beside him for him to hold onto for support as he walks. He can't quite straighten up entirely, but he stands as tall as he can manage and takes his first few shaky steps to the door.

He stops with his hand on the knob, looking to Dani over his shoulder. "Thank you."

"What are friends for?" she says softly, then turns serious as she says, "Call me if you need anything."

"I will," he says. The funny thing is, he means it. He's learning that trust is a two-way street and, for some reason, it doesn't seem quite so difficult to navigate with Dani.

One last fortifying breath and then he's making his way slowly into the room, leaning on the IV post as he goes, until he's next to Martin's bed. He wraps the fingers of his right hand around the footboard in a white-knuckled grip, using it in equal measure to keep his balance and quell the tremor.

 _This_ road, he knows, is going to be much rockier to traverse. But he's been given a second chance and doesn't intend to waste it.

"Hello, Doctor Whitly." It's little more than a whisper, but his father's eyelids flutter open at the sound of his voice, as though he's been waiting for Malcolm to visit before he finally deigns to wake up.

Perhaps he has.

"My boy," Martin smiles, as charming as ever, even when he's just awakening from a coma.

With a deep breath (or as deep as he can manage without the wound in his abdomen aching and pulsing unbearably), Malcolm braces himself for what's sure to be a bumpy ride.

With everything that's happened, though, it suddenly seems just a little less daunting than he'd originally feared. Because he's finally realized he has people in his corner. 

People he can trust.

People like Dani and Gil. Like Edrisa and JT. 

And he thinks that, just maybe, with them by his side, everything will turn out okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Kate for looking this one over ❤


End file.
